Crimson
by caligirlsd99
Summary: An apparition? Does an apparition have the capability to slit ones throat without a second glance? "She had put despair and fear aside, as if they were garments she did not choose to wear." What brings one to such despair as throwing aside your honor to protect the abysmal despotism whom employs them ? "... a ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is."
1. Prologue: Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords

_Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables_

_Disclaimer: Quotes in the summary belong to George R.R. Martin_

_Prologue: Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords_

* * *

_May 13__th __, 1832_

Marquis Lafayette paced about the room, bearing only slight glances towards the door that separates him from the dying man in the room adjoining.

"If the cholera doesn't take him, the fever is sure to."

"Have faith Monsieur Lafayette, his condition has not yet been diagnosed. We are not sure if what infects him is of the same that plagues Paris."

Losing patience, he raked his hand through his receding hairline before taking another breath to approach the matter at hand.

"His summer days have been spent with the urchins that litter the streets, if he hasn't contracted it yet he was sure to in little time. General Lemarque is long past due for demise. But yet it would have been much more preferable for him to die after the flame he sparked had depleted. This will serve for no more than another catalyst put in place for the day we anticipate."

"Do you assume I lack apprehension? I certainly have my doubts, but that does not lead my thoughts to believe all optimism should be lost."

"I must address your naivety, you reflect too expectantly Clegane. People die when they live honorably. No doubt what afflicts him is either of nature or purposeful intentions. Monsieur Lemarque is a respected man, but his veracity was always a disadvantage. One earns enemies when they spend all their life striving to be a man of morality. His weakness for the downtrodden will leave him just as it left Marat. Dead in his own poor of skepticism."

"He does not live with qualm. A man of his integrity has yet to surrender to the likes of paranoia. 'Everyday is anew', he said to me. 'And if we don't live each as if it may be our last, the next will be overlooked as if just another casualty.' What do you think he meant by that?"

"I presume the old hag as finally lost his senses."

"Perhaps. Or is it more likely he has merely seen a piece of what you are still blinded by?"

"What are you assuming Monsieur?"

"I will best hold my tongue under the impression you will have it once the realization you deny is spoken."

"How dare you speak to me in such a tone. You have no right to voice what is not factual."

"I have voiced nothing that isn't of the utmost importance and nobility."

There was along pause before Clegane spoke again.

"I bid you farewell Monsieur, the light is fading and I must return to my flat before nightfall. I trust we will convene soon, come daybreak?"

"Certainly. We have much to deliberate before summer falls over Paris, and the Cholera truly takes down her path."

With a curt nod, Clegane left the quarters a pair of ubiquitous eyes following him with every tread as if his shadow. Eyes that are not Lafayette's but just the same belonging to him.

~..0..~

_June 1__st__ ,1832_

He scans over the still body, pale with ailment and reeking of death. Had it been another who had died just as summer arrived, circumstances may have fared differently. But now, as the suns rays beat down on the cobblestones, the blaze of rebellion follows. Never once had Lafayette believed this man—wanted silenced by the king himself, yet so bound by his honor— would survive. Within four days time the casket shall be lowered, but his legacy will forever remain.

"It was so soon. So sudden." One may have mistaken the look on Lafayette's face as he listened to be mourning, but a second glace reassured it was nothing but hidden intentions as he spoke to Clegane.

"Yes. He was a good man, but a fool." Was his response.

"How so?" Clegane adjusted his stance into one of an elder wiser man approaching a childish fool. Lafayette, in his stupor did not recognize this change in posture.

"Lamarque never recognized what was always right before him. If he had, he may still be living today."

"I do not believe man has the ability to resist death when it approaches him." Clegane poured from the wine flask, not raising his eyes to meet the other man. Lafayette quickly walked over to him, replacing the lid and forcing attention upon himself.

"That may be so, but when the day comes that leaves you striving for one last breath, you're going to wish that was different." Lafayette then paced about the room, finalizing the preparations for the funeral procession, four days post General Lamarque's death."

"Every man does. It is whether one dies with principle or derision that is left in our mortal hands. A verdict to be made by the person himself."

"Everyone has their apparitions." He said, taking one of the glasses of absinthe.

"Yes, but do you carry yours proudly, or with shame."

"Is it not sinful to wear your mistakes honorably?" His eyebrows seemed to nearly disappear in his black curls, tempting Clegane to counter.

"Behind every scar is a story, and behind every sin is a moral. Both are the same being an experience you learn from, but the latter inflicts more trepidation on ones guilty soul."

"Must you contradict or lecture me every time we have a discussion?" His drink banged onto the table, sloshing the contents about the cup.

"I am not trying to degrade your boyish reputation of hostility, but can you not be humble without being proud?"

"I can be proud if I wish to be so."

"I suppose you do have that right. I will leave you now to your provisions, there is a scarce amount time before the funeral."

"Very well."

~..0..~

"Have you need for anything, contact me. I will supply you with whatever tools found necessary. I suspect you will be successful?"

"Yes your grace."

"Good. _Ma petite colombe_. I trust this task has been assigned to someone who can handle it."

"Certainly _Ma Reigne_. It will be done." Eponine turned from her with a tear threatening to drop, constantly reminding herself this was the only way as she stared down at the parcel wrapped in rich cloth. A frail voice echoed in her ears as they fell freely

"_Eponine no, you don't have to do this! Please, I will be fine." _

"_You're dying Gavroche! I can't let you die, you're all I have left." A single tear escaped as she took his hand._

"_Don't do it 'Ponine." Eponine swiftly stood from her brother's bedside and set out for town placing a small kiss on his forehead before whispering one last goodbye into his ear._

"_I must."_

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for reading! Review and tell me what you thought and if you have any suggestions. The story's speed will pick up. _


	2. What Do We Say to the Face of Death?

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables

_What do we Say to the Face of Death?_

* * *

_June 5__th__ 1832_

Soon enough, the day arrived when the casket would be lowered, burying the body but not the legacy. Lafayette hesitantly tightened his cravat, unsure whether or not he should advance any further. Regardless of his petty insecurities, someone has to say his condolences; although there was no shortage of supporters for General Lemarque. The problem lies in the difference of being a conventional follower or rather than a radical nihilist.

Cleganes' soft-spoken voice tore him from his thoughts.

"Are all the preparations in line for the procession, monsieur?"

"I suppose," his response finally came. "It seems that everyone, save myself, is prepared for this disaster to commence."

"We all have our paranoias."

"Yes, but mine are within reason."

"And the reason being?"

Lafayette withdrew a sharp breath as he went to close the door left ajar.

"I feel as though he may have been silenced under… unnatural qualities, he died so suddenly."

"A two week time frame is very reasonable for a man with cholera. It appears you skepticism has turned into pure madness."

"Lemarque did not have cholera." Clegane lifted his head at this, the pen that he had held quickly forgotten."

"Pardon?"

"It was confirmed a week prior to his death."

"Perhaps it was another ailment that took him then. A cold maybe? Or rather Pneumonia?"

"No." Lafayette's fist made harsh contact with the table. "He was well on his way to recovery. He himself told me he felt well enough to return to the streets and further his cause, I, of course advised against it. Then by daybreak he made another appearance for _petite dejuner, _and again later to occupy a vacant setting near _luncheon_."

"Are you sure he had not only done these things to reassure you? As you may recall, you did say he had requested a visit to the slums."

"I was, and still remain under the impression he was well."

"Then what do you presume killed him?"

" I suppose I'll never know."

~..0..~

As the hot afternoon sun beat down the drums echoed throughout the ears of each civilian anticipating the moment their seemingly last symbol of hope would be lowered into the dirt. Some showed a sense of reflection in their eyes as tedious thoughts filled their minds of the irony. How right is it that the man who spoke for them would be buried beneath where others tread? And where those in poverty were birthed, condemned to a lifetime of destitution.

The funeral cart came to a halt just as a tall, slender man with dark curly hair approached the stand, speech in hand. Looking out across the large crowd before him, he adjusted his cravat before stepping into the sunlight. His posture was dominant towards the downtrodden people and disgust grazed his features before delivering his condolences.

"Today, we come in respect and in mourning for the loss of a dear comrade, General Jean-Maximillien Lemarque. To some he was known as a respected commander, some a devoted legitimist, to others a liberator. As for me, he was a cherished companion. General Lemarque may be deceased, but his work remains all around us. We take notice of the burnt remains of Vabres Cathedral, as well the many published works he left behind. And so, what can we learn from this man? Was it not he who spoke of life and all the opportunities it contains?"

His speech was followed by a large wave of cheers as the people took in each word he said as if it was the only thing they had left to hold onto. Yet, there was still a daunting realization that the only person willing enough to offer a better life was gone. Just as the clapping subsided, another voice came booming from somewhere in the crowd.

"Was it not he who also spoke of those opportunities being impossible if we do not take action? Did he not speak of how being held under the threshold of the government disabled any chance of change? How can you stand up there and speak these empty words while twisting them to seem more appealing? Lemarque did not die so we could stand here speaking of tomorrow, but not doing anything to change it. It is up to us to continue his legacy!"

A swell of approval was met just as his words closed, and the man took a place atop a small box, gazing over his stolen audience.

"Citizens, where are we going?" *

A shockingly loud silence was the response, waiting for what the vision had to say on the matter. They themselves did not linger on a day past the one they were living. Each breath they took in was a miracle, but in their eyes, not a blessing.

"…The nineteenth century is great, but the twentieth century will be happy…we can almost say, there will be no more events. We shall be happy…the human race will be delivered, relieved, and consoled." *

Every eye was now trained on the vision so much resembling an unrestrained Antinous, glowing passionately before the crowds, not bound by anything so much as the wind.

But just as suddenly as it began, his speech was cut off as the revolutionary disappeared into the crowds, his signature golden curls and clean cut sartorial inevitably revealed his position. Willingly, he responded shortly to street waifs concerns and pleads for help, acknowledging them each with a curt nod of his head and allowing a passing glance of his demeanor before vanishing into the horde.

But one pair of eyes followed his each step, showing great interest in the man they called "fine marble". His seemingly impassive façade sparked curiosity in its watchful scrutiny. Such a savage beauty, yet so astoundingly tame. Before a sense of perception could fluster its senses, the shadow found itself gravitating towards the abyss that would lead France towards a renewed dawn. _This was the man. It had to be._

"Mademoiselle, are you alright? You look a bit pallid."

She turned to meet a kind face, speckled with freckles and complete with a hazel gaze.

"Yes Monsieur, just lost in a formidable contemplation that is all."

"Forgive my noticing, but you seem to have quite the vocabulary for a grisette."

"Marius! That is absolutely no way to speak to a lady." Another approached the duo, in a drunken stupor tripping over hairline cracks in the cobblestones. He had a large mop of black curls atop his head, as he ogled at her, simultaneously nursing a bottle of absinthe.

"Hardly, his comment was in no way demeaning in fact I have never been addressed as a grisette. After all, it is an improvement from gamine no?"

"That it is."

Her eyes searched the crowd again for the familiar golden locks she had targeted, when they were found hovering just a few gaits to her left she frantically strode towards them. The inebriated man followed her gawk as a smile twitched at the corners of his lips before grasping her tiny wrist.

"Ah, so you have taken a liking to our fearless leader."

"Good luck, he is as aloof as he is passionate towards this Godforsaken revolution." Marius added while staring incredulously at the drunkard who looked as if he may fall over at any minute.

"I think it quite admirable."

"You wont get two words in before he shrugs you away." He responded immediately, scoffing as he looked down at the girl.

"I only wish to partake in a respectable conversation with the man."

"I tried that once," The dark haired man joined in, taking an occasional sip from his beloved bottle. "I spoke of things regarding everything but the revolution just to see if he would concede to them. Each question was a waste of breath."

"Perhaps you were asking the wrong questions then?" The small girl stepped aside tugging a bit at his dark curls before striding off in the opposite direction approaching a much more pleasant scene.

"Monsieur?" She asked timidly tugging lightly on his red jacket sleeve. Immediately he rounded, looking much more intimidating than he appeared to be at a distance. The man stood towering over her, at least a foot taller by comparison. His build was strong, whereas hers looked as if she could crumble at the slightest touch. Those sapphire eyes that had held the attention of hundreds now stared down at her alone and suddenly, she became very self-conscious of her strikingly contrasting appearance.

"Yes, mademoiselle?" _That's twice today they've made that mistake._

Once she had finally gathered the courage to approach him, there was the daunting thought of what questions were right or wrong.

"I apologize for interrupting monsieur, I was conversing with your companions and they brought it to my attention you intend to spark a rebellion."

"Indeed I do." She allowed a small smile to graze across her face before continuing with the conversation. His eyes softened a bit, albeit they still held an omnipresent sense of severity.

"Why?" she asked meekly.

"Pardon?"

"Why do you want to help us?"

"Because, a monarchy has been inaugurated, and since then Bonapartist 's and republicans alike have undergone the tyrannical reign of Louis Philippe. Though, the former isn't as cognizant toward the unfortunate entanglements subjected among all classes. Some thrive, while others suffer. A waif was continuously at the expense of a bourgeois. The feudal system that has developed sustains a sense of injustice, to the extensive nature that those who are below the supposed superior class, are treated as though they were no better than mutts. There is no superiority in a republic, and equality for all is what I strive for. The people speak, and their needs are to be placed before the superficial ones of the so called upper class."

"Aren't you a member of the bourgeoisie?"

"Perhaps by birth, but certainly my political views set me apart. If I were to speak of inequality only to return home and relish in material goods, am I better than any other? Would that not make me hypocritical?"

" I suppose you are right Monsieur. I have taken on quite an interest in your cause might I hear more of it?" There was a slight pause before his response came, shocking the young girl from her stupor of unresolved anxieties.

"What is your name, mademoiselle?"

"Eponine, Monsieur." He studied her then; each lingering stare aroused more apprehension inside of him, which was curtly placed aside as this woman did indeed show a curiosity in his revolution. In the long run, she may be of help in rising her people.

"Well than, Eponine, if by any chance you find yourself wandering near _Rue de la Chanverrerie_, we can converse more on the injustices of our social system.

"I would very much enjoy that, Bonne après-midi!"

"And to you as well, Eponine."

As Eponine stalked away, curving through the once familiar streets of Paris she gripped the parcel hidden in her skirts drawing a thin stream of blood down her palm. _Not now, be patient. _She reminded herself as the path she took became more conversant.

Her steps cut off before she found herself staring up at the decrepit building, which held her ghosts she dared not arouse. But nevertheless, she entered the dark structure.

The wooden floor creaked beneath her tread as she made way through the house, memories of a haunting past falling in line at her feet making each step a struggle. Hastily composing herself, Eponine allowed her scrutiny to fall on the tall menacing door, separating her from all of the regret that inevitably waited beyond the piece of molding wood.

With one last sharp intake of breath she walked in, the guilt hitting her like a dagger, piercing through her broken soul the more she tried to evade it. There on a makeshift bed lay Gavroche, noticeably paler in comparison to the last time she saw him. She then went to his bedside, tenderly placing a kiss to his brow and holding his cold hand in her own as a tear streaked the thin layer of dirt occupying her cheek.

Her once strong and independent brother couldn't even lift his own head to recognize his sister beside him. She began to weep at the sight.

"You should leave." Her mothers voice came from the corner as she gestured to the door."

"Maman—"

"No, Eponine. Go."

"Please." She pleaded, heavy eyes begging some empathy from her formerly loving mother.

"I can't lose you too, I won't lose you. Go my child."

Eponine reluctantly stood, paying heed to her mother's desperate commands.

"…How long?" She asked, gazing down at Gavroche's sleeping form.

"Two days. But he still breathes." Eponine nodded, then turned to take her leave before a calloused hand firmly grasped her wrist.

"Don't come back."

"But—"

"Don't."

And with that she shut the door, refusing Eponine her last moments with her beloved brother. He will die, and she may never get the chance to say goodbye. _No._ she thought to herself, unwrapping the sharpened blade and clutching it as if it held life itself. _Not today._

* * *

_A/N: I'm going to try and post more often but with it being the end of the semester, its hard to find time. I will probably post once a week from now on maybe twice. Review or PM me your thoughts on the chapter(:_


	3. Hear With Your Eyes and See the Truth

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables**

_Chapter 3: Hear with your eyes and see the truth_

* * *

"Perhaps we could—"

"No, Marius. That would be foolish. _Mouton_ knows this city like the back of his hand. It was no accident Philippe assigned him as marshal in order to suppress insurrections."

"Our last concern is _General Georges Mouton_, Enjolras."

The two revolutionaries poured over the old map of Paris that hung on the wall of the café Musain, just off _Rue de la Chanverrerie. _Markings of ink littered the page, but each had a meaning and each line lead to somewhere. Marius' finger drew across the page, tracing an imaginary path that lead to their current location.

"How so? Do you presume the leader of _Orleanists _is not going to affect our victory? If anything he is the greatest of our concerns." Enjolras ran a hand through his thick golden curls, tightly shutting his eyes as a headache began to sprout.

Marius just simply nodded and took his leave to the other side of the café, isolating Enjolras with his trepidations.

Nothing was going as intended. General Lemarque is dead, the king is still on the throne, and the only others who were against him were the ones who wanted the throne for themselves. All that was left were the people.

A din of laughter estranged his reflections as his drunken companions inebriated themselves far past coherency. _What a peril we are. _He said to himself while shooting a pointed look towards Grantaire who was now doing his own drunken rendition _Le Marseillaise_. Just as he concluded his last slurred words, a small shadow slipped into the room, almost blending into the walls. It lurked around the edges of the building, eyeing each and every revolutionary as if they themselves were to blame for her quandaries. But one caught her eye as the light shone a bit differently from her perch and made his way towards the familiar face without a name.

"Hello _mademoiselle_—"

"Eponine."

"Eponine! So that is what you go by. Do you by chance have a surname?"

"Not one I'm proud of."

"Perhaps, by chance there is one you wish to go by?"

"I'll let you know when the right name comes along." She responded, turning from her spot with the young man and sauntering towards the back of the Musain. But an arm held her back before her attempted departure commenced.

"What brings you here _mademoiselle_ Eponine?" The man asked her forcing eye contact with the young gamine.

"Definitely your charming nature and alluring personality _monsieur_,

She winked tugging teasingly on his chestnut locks.

Eponine feigned a feint, bringing herself onto the tips of her toes so that his nose was practically brushing against hers. A breathy whisper escaped her lips and onto his ears sending a shudder down his spine.

"I just can't seem to stay away." She meandered off again, so calmly it was as if nothing had ever happened. With a round of her heel she turned about eyeing the dumbfounded man before her.

"I never caught your name _monsieur_." Eponine yelled from across the noisy atmosphere.

" Marius! Umm—Pontmercy."

"I'll remember that, Pontmercy." She winked and headed over towards the golden hair that was so palpable in comparison to the rest of the dark haired revolutionaries.

He sat, scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. He barely noticed her presence as she approached him, but as soon as she leaned over his shoulder it immediately registered.

"Yes _mademoiselle_? How may I be of an assistance."

"Look how formal you are conversing with a street waif, dumb it down a bit I can hardly understand you _Montesquieu_." She quipped, twirling a finger through his hair and leaning down at ear level. He, ostensibly accustomed to that of the opposite sex, remained indifferent towards her enticing gesture.

"I was given the impression your intellect was that of a much more sophisticated _gamine_."

"Perhaps, but I possess a _gamine's_ vocabulary nonetheless."

"Regardless, I do not discriminate based on weather a persons vocabulary is developed under a respectable education or rather an alternate way of edification."

"Of course you do, all men partake in the act of discrimination! It's a simple code, a way of life we live by. Some people are better than others.

"So I don't blame you of course! We are all raised in the sense that those of the bourgeoisie are much better than the scum they tread on. I, for instance, was taught never even to so much as approach a person of the higher class." She said, twirling his pen skillfully between her small but nimble fingers as he appeared an amused.

"But I've never been a good listener." She added simply, avoiding eye contact with the man before her.

"Forgive me for being blunt but, did you come here to discuss your vocabulary and listening skills or the revolution you seemed to have taken on quite an interest to?"

"Maybe I came for both."

" I finding it hard to believe you came here to deliberately converse on imperfections."

"So you do admit they are imperfect?"

"In societies eyes."

"How about yours?" He raised an eyebrow, and stared at her incredulously.

"There must be some form of knowledge in those blue eyes. A girl could practically melt just staring into them. Can they form an opinion as well? Or are they just another part of the show?"

"What are you insinuating mademoiselle?"

"_Liberte, egalite, Fraternite_. What do those words mean?"

"It is our slogan of freedom, it represents a better tomorrow."

"It represents nothing. They're just words meant to serve as a shallow underdeveloped lie. Spoken over and over again until we forget its all a false sense of hope."

"Those words have the power to change France."

"For the better, or worse?"

"The better."

"But is has been undecided _non_? We know not of what lies beyond the horizon. All we can see is right in front of us."

"I believe the only way for there to be a horizon, is for people to see beyond it. Had it not been for the formers of today, there wouldn't be a tomorrow. It is a gift you know, to see beyond as you put it."

"You have this venerable trait about you. Optimism. But what you don't know, is that there is a whole other world beyond these walls. A world I can't even begin to imagine understanding. A world no one will ever see through shaded eyes." Eponine stood then, a hand resting on his shoulder before tracing his jawline with her finger and bringing his chin towards her face.

She looked into his eyes. Pure, solemn, knowing. A calm blue color, so radiant they almost dimmed the whole room so it seemed to be just her staring into the pale abyss.

"But your vision is jaded with lies and regret." Eponine whispered, still inexplicably drawn to the deep chasm so full of depth and foolish knowledge.

'_His eyes.' _She thought to herself. '_That is how I will destroy him.'_

* * *

_A/N: I am so sorry it took this long for an update! I have been extremely busy and just now had time to write. I had about 1/4 of this finished for like 2 weeks but along with lack of time and writers block, I couldn't get it done. So as soon as I got home from __watching The Great Gatsby (Which was amazing) I was re-inspired and I finished the chapter(: Please review and tell me what you think of it and maybe get the 3 references in there ( One for Game of Thrones, one for The Giver, and one very discreetly for Great Gatsby)_


	4. What is Honor Without a Woman's Love?

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables

* * *

What is Honor Compared to a Woman's Love?

Marius stared incredulously towards Eponine who was serenely walking towards the back portion of the café Musain.

He himself was quite flustered due to his recent brush with the girl, who had so discreetly enticed him. It was as if she herself had the capability to deceive the whole world and hold it within her palms. A friendly slap to the back—though harsh all the same—quickly pulled him from his quandaries.

"Marius! Close your jaw or you'll catch flies my friend." Grantaire's blunt comment snapped Marius' jaw shut so fast it nearly locked. His dark haired friend threw an arm over his shoulder and pointed to Eponine, who was now deeply conversing with their leader.

"Do you think she prefers raven haired men or our golden locked Antinous?"

"If I had to guess, I would say the latter." Marius replied attempting to make haste in escaping the inebriated mans death grip.

"I don't know I saw her eyeing me earlier…"

Marius turned then, a hand placing on Grantaire's shoulder and staring at him with a concerned expression.

"Joly come over here for a moment!" The Hypochondriac doctor in training quickly came to Marius' side.

"What is it my friend?"

"I think all of that alcohol he has been consuming finally went to his brain."

"I wouldn't doubt that for a second." He responded rolling his eyes towards the stumbling revolutionary.

"I was merely stating a fact."

"To be a fact, it has to be true. What you stated was closer to libel."

"I didn't publish it."

"Regardless. You're still delusional."

They turned their attention back to the spectacle before them.

Enjolras. Talking to a woman.

Unheard of in a sense so strong the Amis could hardly believe the display tangible.

Eponine even went as far as to inaugurate coquettish gestures towards the marble man; though her attempts were feeble. The girl seemed to be quite enticing to all of those save for the man she desired to lust after her. Enjolras simply sat looking un-amused and altogether unaffected as she blatantly flaunted.

"How can a man be so intelligent yet so naïve?" Marius pondered as he watched the two.

"I swear when it comes to topics based on educational matters or even political his mind registers immediately, but he wouldn't know when a woman fancies him even if it slapped him in the face." Joly's response came, shaking his head shamefully at how unaware their leader could be. Grantaire took another swig from his bottle before adding his judgments to the conversation.

"Eventually one will."

Laughter followed just as the topic to their _tête-à-tête _approached.

"One will what?"

"Oh nothing, mademoiselle. It was just a quip, nothing more."

"Pertaining to whom might I ask?" Grantaire's drunken slurs immediately responded.

"Why most definitely to the Golden haired god who dwells in the dark corners of this here humble abode m'lady!"

Eponine's mouth upturned slightly towards the comment.

"Ah yes, I suppose I can assume why he might be the topic of your conversation. But he's a bit bland if you don't might me saying." Marius laughed, making himself to be more of a presence to this conversation.

"Unlike the ambrosia he most likely feasts on while were off with cheap rum and hardtack."

"Why on earth would you eat such a thing Marius? That is quite far from a salubrious meal if you ask me. And living off of a thing so poor in nutrition will ultimately lead to a death much to soon for any mans desires" Joly added, cringing at the thought of eating such an undesirable food ration.

"I do not eat such things, I was simply jesting. Don't allow your hypochondriac habits haunt our consciences as well."

"I say those things in the best of concerns for your health."

"So do I."

"Well," Eponine interrupted "If you don't mind, I think I will be taking my leave. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintances and I hope to soon convene with you again." Marius grabbed her arm halting her tread before she could go any further."

"Are you positive you want to venture alone in the dark? With night comes many terrors Eponine. Perhaps you woul—"

"I ensure you I take heed in my surroundings, may your soul rest at ease. _Bonne nuit _monsieur's."

And with that, they watched as her tiny figure made way towards the door, stepping over as opposed to around any obstacles she came across until she disappeared into the night.

Over time the Amis began draining out of the café, until the only three who remained were Marius, Grantaire—Who may have been there physically, but mentally was far off into a place no one sane would dare tread— and Enjolras who was hunched over his law book, brow furrowed in concentration.

It is at this precise time that Marius, after a good twenty minutes of pondering, decided to approach him.

He took a seat next to Enjolras, making a point to scrape the wooden legs on the floor causing an awful screeching noise to emit.

"What are you possibly working on so studiously at half past eleven?"

"Work." He replied simply, not even lifting his head to give the respectable regard towards Marius.

"For the revolution?"

"For an assortment of things."

Marius remained silent, looking over towards Enjolras who only paid notice to his studies.

"What is it that you are dying to congregate with me over, Pontmercy?"

"An _assortment _of things." Enjolras raised an eyebrow, clearly unentertained.

"Corresponding to…?"

"Eponine."

"What about her?"

"You tell me." Marius smirked at the confused expression on the blondes face, though found him self slightly vexed that the man could be so blind.

"She seems like a very intelligent person, due for the same amount of respect given to others who regular this facility."

"You say that like she has not already been treated with respect."

"As a women, she is most likely more often than not treated dishonorably given her…social status."

"Because she is a gamine?"

"Because she is not as well off as you and I, Marius."

"Are you implying she is welcome to accompany us here? During our meetings?"

"So long as she doesn't become a distraction and continues to offer up insightful philosophies pertaining to the events to come."

"You must have taken on quite a liking to this girl."

"I have my qualms."

"Concerning what?"

"I believe I have already mentioned them, must I elaborate?"

"They mustn't have registered, do you mind perhaps voicing them again."

"I do not appreciate having to reiterate myself, Marius. But if I must, I distress she may become a distraction which may impair our cause."

"To whom?"

"Who else but the _Amis_?"

"You perhaps?"

Enjolras scoffed, redirecting his attentions to the page before him.

"We are both aware that I do not have time for such petty desires. And that I have no tolerance for yearnings of the flesh in any case, unless of course the two are wed," He paused before continuing and looked towards Marius incredulously, "Am I betrothed to Eponine?"

"Well…no that's n—"

"There is only one simple answer Marius, no. Now, as I have said I do not partake in such aspirations and nor will I ever."

"Never, Enjolras? Have you taken on a vow of celibacy?"

"Of sorts."

Marius rolled his eyes _could this mans head be any further up his butt?_

"Your loyalty to Patria is unwavering, and detrimental my friend. If it proceeds any further I'm afraid I will be inclined to take you to a mental holding."

"If it's my loyalty to Patria that leads me there, so be it. And may it be bound with chains and bloodshed."

"Yes Enjolras, chains and bloodshed."

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A/N: So I haven't been getting very many reviews which kinda sucks... So if your reading and you like my story, or even if you have some constructive criticism or questions drop me a review! And thank you so much to those of you who have already given your input! I appreciate it so much!


	5. Never forget who you are

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Les Miserables

A/N: I will save my obsession filled a/n for after the chapter...

Never forget who you are, for surely the world will not

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Eponine strolled along the streets, a dazed look dancing across her dark orbs as she scrutinized the night sky dotted with stars. The flowing waters of the seine calmed her, and she allowed herself a moment's time to melt into the sedative aroma. For once, she could forget all of the quandaries of life and gaze off into a distant future, but as she looked all that was visible was a dim light emanating from the opposite side of the river.

The very same light she found herself depending upon more and more lately, as it represented the hope of a different life. One where she didn't clutch to the freshly sharpened dagger wrapped in clean linen, itching to be used upon its intended.

It was all the hope she had left when everything would turn against her and fall aimlessly in line behind her feet. Battered and bloody. Innocent, and betrayed.

Eponine fell to her knees, the backs of her palms covering her eyes as she wept before the bright light trained in her direction.

'_What lies beyond this life?'_ She wondered to herself as more tears found their way out and trickled down her cheek. The cool crisp air of the night bit relentlessly at her skin, and she shivered at the contact. Her dark tresses blew across her face as the wind changed direction but her gaze did not shift from that bright light. All the young gamine hoped for was a chance to leave it all behind, and follow that light to a new destiny.

But she couldn't.

Not without treading over her trail of blood. It would soil her skirts more so than already, and stain her palms forever more leaving nothing but a broken, less put together version of herself. If she declined, if at this very moment she approached the queen and pleaded for a second chance her head would most certainly be on a pike by the next nightfall.

She would never again see the luminosity of the stars, nor the prospect that lies behind that yellow light.

"Forget it." Eponine spoke to the air, before sluggishly picking herself up again and using the sleeves of her dress to dry her tear stained cheeks.

She made haste towards the dingy remnants of a bakery she called home, drawing her thin shawl closer as the temperature seemed to drop within seconds. But nevertheless, she couldn't complain. As she approached the building she ran into a figure, knocking both her and the unknown person to the ground.

"Oh dear! I am so sorry! You see I'm afraid I can be awfully clumsy." Came the soft-spoken voice. It was as if birds were singing with each word and Eponine slowly found herself grimacing with jealousy. She took this moment to look over the girl. Her silky auburn hair was perfectly tame with serene curls tumbling down her shoulders and her features were soft and inviting complete with pale green eyes. It was in stark comparison to Eponine's unruly brown curls and dark hazel eyes.

"That's alright," She responded finally " A lady of you obvious stature should not have to apologize to a gamine such as I."

The redhead regarded her with a puzzling look before quickly shaking her head and wiping off her skirt.

"I'm no one special mademoiselle, just a grisette trying to earn her keep." Eponine took in her beautifully tailored dress and lifted a condescending eyebrow. The other girl laughed as she noticed where the girl's attention had directed.

"It was a gift from my courter. His family has an abundance of money, even though her refuses most of what they offer. Still, he accepts enough to live off of while having some left over to shower me in gifts." She giggled before continuing, a smile brightening her whole face.

"I have seen you around today."

"You…you have?"

"Of course! You hadn't noticed? Well I suppose that's understandable, I dim in comparison to Enjolras. He is quite charming isn't he?"

"Who?"

"Enjolras, the man you were speaking to at the café this afternoon?"

"Oh yes, I'm afraid I hadn't caught his name earlier."

"How awfully rude of him. Normally it's the first thing he would tell you, followed by 'How do you feel about the social injustices of our feudal system?' "

The two girls giggled at her poor vocal impression.

"I suppose that can be considered fairly accurate." Eponine laughed still in awe of the fact this girl had even noticed her in the first place.

"The words yes, but I'll admit the voice was a bit unrealistic." The other responded, plastering a stoic look on her face as if seriously contemplating her approach on the marble lover of liberty. "Well, I was just on my way to my flat. Would you care to join me? It's much to big a building for just myself and I'm afraid my usual company wont be coming for a few months."

"That's quite alright mademoiselle, I can fair just fine on my own."

"It's Musichetta, no need for formalities."

"That's quite alright, _Musichetta_."

"Are you positive? I can assure you I'm not offering any charity. But it seems to me you're the first genuine person I have met in years."

_You have no idea how wrong you are._

"Besides," She continued, " We have much to discuss on the topic of _Enjolras_." Musichetta suggestively raised her eyebrows and Eponine couldn't help but laugh at her gesture.

Perhaps accepting could in the long run lead to her duty being fulfilled even more quickly than anticipated. She did seem to know quite a bit about the Amis.

"I suppose that would be alright." Eponine responded reluctantly.

Musichetta beamed before linking her arm with Eponine's and taking off towards _Rue de la Chanverrerie_.

"My flat is this way, trust me you'll love it there."

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A/N: Here we go... If any of my readers watch Game of Thrones, make. it. known. (or have read song of ice and fire) *SPOILER* Sundays episode was absolutely amazing, even though I knew what happened to Robb and Catelyn I had no idea about Talisa(mostly because she isn't in the books.) As soon as the reigns of castmere started playing(the lannister song) I knew things were about to go down. It was gruesome, and I will admit to tearing up when Robb died(only a little though...) but it makes for a great plot. I'm pretty sure everyone who watches GOT knew since Ned Stark got his head cut off that no one was safe...regardless, Valar Morghulis. (Yeah I just went there...) anyways if anyone wants to review on what they thought of the chapter or on sundays GOT they are much obliged(: Or you can PM me...whichever.


	6. If I Look Back, I am Lost

_Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables_

_If I Look Back, I am Lost_

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As the two approached a large building, Eponine immediately recognized it as the Café Musain.

"You live here?"

"Heavens no, I live just beyond this building. Were just stopping by."

Eponine nodded before stepping into the building, which was lit by a single candle coming from the corner of the room. And there, sprawled over hundreds of paper laid Enjolras who appeared to be in a deep slumber. His golden curls that had usually been so perfect were tangled into his hand, which at once had probably kept his head up but now laid awkwardly on the table. Musichetta giggled as she went behind the counter to fetch something she must have left there earlier.

"Are we supposed to be in here at this hour?" Eponine whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping revolutionary.

"I work here Eponine, it's actually my job to be in here at this hour. But normally, Enjolras over there locks up." She pointed to the corner where he still slept silently.

"You would expect him to be loudly snoring, every other guy I've seen asleep has been so loud they could wake half of Paris." Musichetta laughed as she fumbled for another candle.

"No, not Enjolras. That would be considered an "Imperfection". The boys and I have recently come to the conclusion that he lacks that, which makes us human. Just look at him. Perfection. Like Apollo himself." Musichetta shook her head disapprovingly as she lit the wick before setting it in a holder and searching the room for the object of her desire.

"I don't know. He seems to have an uncanny social disposition when it comes to women."

"That we have taken into account." Eponine laughed again at the girl before following her out the door and back into the night.

Musichetta's house was hidden just around the corner, as she had said and was covered in vines of ivy and bougainvillea. It was small dwelling, but luxurious nonetheless compared to what Eponine was used to.

The inside wasn't much different than an average home, complete with simple furnishings and white chiffon drapes covering the windows and blowing in the wind. Musichetta fluttered about the room, lighting candles as she went.

"So," she started, fluffing pillows on her couch before sitting and directing Eponine to join her " I suppose I have neglected to catch your name. That makes me no better than Enjolras! Forgive me my manners seem to have just been completely forgotten!"

"That's quite alright, I'm Eponine."

"Eponine, well it is nice to make you acquaintance." She replied bearing a dashing smile.

"And to you as well, Musichetta. And, thank you for allowing me into you home. Though I'm afraid I may be soiling your chaise in my current state"

"Oh don't worry about it, besides we can get you cleaned up and in a new dress if you would prefer."

"That would be lovely, but I have already imposed on you enough."

"Nonsense! I would love to assist you, let me draw a bath."

With a flutter of skirts she exited to the washroom as she prepared the water. Eponine looked over the room in apprehension. This task was becoming more and more unbearable by the second. How could she betray these people? Already she felt the guilt overwhelm her at the thought of abandoning their friendship and replacing it with a dagger. Just then Musichetta came out from the room again, a towel in hands.

"Ready?"

Eponine nodded timidly, lifting herself from the couch and going towards the washroom. Musichetta place the towel in her hands.

"If you need anything just call! I will have a dress for you outside of the door." She said before shutting the door behind her. Eponine stared dumbly for a moment before proceeding in taking off her garments. They were practically plastered to her body, and the stench of stale sweat and mud traveled throughout the room. Eponine grimaced displeasingly at this before placing a single toe into the warm water.

The moment she made contact with the water a shutter went through her spine, and soon enough she was fully immersed into the water, eyes closed in contentment.

Years of grime washed away as well as regret. Though harsh, the scrubber was relaxing as well and Eponine smiled down at her light olive skin that had beforehand looked harsh and tanned. After about an hour of hassle with her hair and skin she stepped out of the tub, frowning in embarrassment at the nearly black water.

She then took the time to dump it out the window before cracking the door slightly ajar and picking up the soft material that had been promised to her. It was a simple pink chiffon gown with sleeves that rested loosely just off her shoulder paired long white robe. Both were luxurious to say the least.

Eponine exited the room, where Musichetta was writing a letter on the chaise.

"Thank you for the clothes." She said, pulling the other girl from the trance she had been pulled into.

"Oh my dear you startled me! Yes, it was no problem you may keep them if you'd like. I'm afraid to say I have long since outgrown them."

"Are…are you sure?"

"Of course! What use are they to me?"

"I suppose none if you cannot wear them."

"Precisely, besides they fit you like a glove. Do you need a comb for you hair?"

"Um, I suppose."

"I'll go get you one, stay here." Eponine nodded before taking a place on the couch and twiddling with her thumbs. It wasn't everyday a gamine was taken into someone's home, nonetheless bathed and clothed.

'_This is almost too good to be true.' _She thought to herself. _'This must be a Godly woman.'_

"Here you are," Musichetta said, reentering the room with a comb in hand. "Would you prefer I do it? I hate to bring attention, but your hair is awfully tangled."

"Yes, if it's not to much of a burden, that would be lovely thank you."

"Of course not, it's my pleasure." She immediately began to tackle the daunting task of Eponine's unruly hair, which clearly was giving her a difficult time. There was the occasional grimace or 'ouch' on Eponine's part but Musichetta just offered a quick apology and continued to comb through until half an hour later it was deemed tangle free.

"There," She huffed back with a thump into her couch as Eponine cradled her throbbing head "That wasn't too bad."

Eponine glared in her direction only to see the girl had already nearly already fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.

"Thank you, Musichetta."

"It was no problem, darling." She said with a wave of her hand before said hand was placed carelessly over her eyes.

Eponine smiled in her direction and then stared off into the fireplace, admiring the way the flames danced freely over the logs.

What she wouldn't give to be as free as wildfire, uncontainable and dangerous. She was one, but not the other. No, Eponine was tightly bound by her word never again to be freed until her last breath leaves her lungs. But by then, Gavroche will already have been gone and her duty's purpose will have been spent.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm just now out of school so I will have a lot more time to write than I had before(: Don't forget to review! Your input means a lot to me, and is what keeps me writing(which results in more chapters...hint,hint) And a special thanks to my guest reviewer Iris, maybe next time you review you can do it underneath an account name so we can discuss on how to further improve my writing ability.


	7. Wind and Words

_A/N: Important authors notes at the end!_

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing

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Chapter 7

The next morning Eponine awoke with a start to find herself sprawled over a couch in clothing that was far too nice to belong to her. She saw Musichetta laying face down on the couch opposite to her and laughed. Though Eponine had only gotten a few hours of sleep last night, it was the most she had slept in months. Slowly and cautiously without waking the girl adjacent to her she got up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. Though her attempts were feeble as Musichetta woke anyways and got up to join her.

"Morning!" She said, happy as ever. Eponine just grumbled, making it very obvious the early hours of the day weren't her favorite.

"I'm going to make some coffee, then head to the café to get started on work. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure, why not." She responded, still more asleep than awake. Musichetta gave her a wide smile and began her kitchen work.

"You must be starving! How about a fresh croissant?" The word 'fresh' immediately registered in Eponine's mind. She couldn't remember the last time she had had anything fresh. The last thing she consumed was a piece of stale, burnt bread from the trash behind the bakery.

"That, would be very much appreciated thank you." Musichetta simply nodded before placing a table setting out for Eponine and sitting down as well, merely enjoying the sunshine that shone through the curtains.

"So, how long have you know the Amis?" Eponine decided to ask, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the two.

"A few years now I believe, I have know Bossuet for much longer though, then he introduced me to Joly who then introduced me to the rest of the bunch. It was quite something really, all of them seemed smitten save Enjolras who just glared at the boys for being so simpleminded." Both girls laughed before she continued on. "Other than that, my relationships really grew with the boys. It's hard to believe I've known them for so long! Hardly feels like it's been a week."

"It's funny actually, before long I made it a personal goal of mine to infiltrate Enjolras' mind into loving me, or at least to be an attraction to him. I even went as far as going to the seamstress and having her tailor my clothes to expose more cleavage. But to no avail. I'm afraid he is completely indifferent to the ways of a woman. He did seem to take a liking to you though."

Eponine laughed again before violently shaking her head.

"Why on earth would he even pay me a second glance?"

"Perhaps your worth it." She grinned bringing her cup up to her lips.

"No. But I did develop somewhat of a liking towards one of the Amis."

"And whom might that lucky bachelor be?" She blushed before responding teasingly.

"His name shall never be disclosed, though I will forever be smitten in his presence." She brought a hand up to her forehead and pretended to faint. Both girls laughed again before quickly collecting themselves and continuing their breakfast.

"What are they like?" Eponine prodded "The Amis?"

"Well, they're hardly normal, but you know that already."Musichetta giggled harmoniously responding to the curious dark haired girl.

"Yes, I have noticed." Eponine responded, though not intending for her comment to be in any way harmful to any of the boys.

She laughed again, scooting out of her chair and pulling Eponine along.

"Come on, I will tell you all about them while I prepare you for our day! Besides, I'm not so sure you're wanting to discuss the Amis as much as their leader." Eponine blushed deeply at her comment but allowed herself to be pulled, relenting to Musichetta's death grip.

The process had hardly changed in 'preparing' and Eponine found it just as tedious as it was last night, though she couldn't deny it was enjoyable. Musichetta sat her down on the chair directly in front of the vanity, playing around with her dark curls before heating the rod beneath a flame. As she watched the process, Eponine decided it was far to much work to fret over but Musichetta insisted on it.

"So," She began, twirling Eponine's hair around the rod and holding it in place "You want to know about Enjolras."

"That's not exact-"

"Well for starters" She interrupted moving on to another portion " He's very handsome, as you already know, as well as smart. But he's a bit too serious for my liking. Perhaps you could do me a favor and break him in."

"Musichetta!" Eponine blushed, quickly trying to push the thought out of her mind. Though he couldn't be all that bad...

"Calm down, I'm only kidding" She giggled pulling Eponine away from her thoughts. "Anyways, his only concern is the revolution which, can be attractive and heroic but at the same time bland and infuriating."

"I can see how you may think that."

Musichetta smiled at her, finishing up the last bit of Eponine's hair before directing her behind the changing wall.

"Here, take this" She said handing Eponine a corset and deep turquoise gown "And hurry so we can get to the cafe!"

Eponine obeyed as she went behind the changing wall, shedding her previous garments and trading them for the new ones. The dress was hardly what she would consider casual in the least. It was a steely color with buttons going up the corset area and lace trimming the top as well as the sleeves which hung barely off her shoulders making for a risqué appeal. There was lace going down the front of the skirt as well which widened at the bottom.

"Are you sure this isn't a bit too much?" She said anxiously gazed at herself in front of the mirror.

"Of course not! Now come out so I can see how it looks on you!" Musichetta replied.

Eponine walked out from her perch and into the room, allowing Musichetta to fret over wrinkles in the skirt to her hearts content until deemed appropriate.

"You look beautiful!There will not be one pair of eyes drawn away from you."

Eponine laughed and curtseyed teasingly allowing a small smirk to play on her lips.

"Thank you, Musichetta, for everything."

Musichetta smiled, pulling part of Eponine's hair into a clip before allowing her long curls to fall freely over her shoulders.

"You're welcome. Now lets go, I wouldn't want to miss my shift." Eponine followed her from the flat, trailing just a bit behind but catching up immediately.

"Hopefully no one will think to much of my approved appearance."

"Don't say that! Besides, we both know Enjolras isn't gonna know what hit him."

"You could say that again."

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_A/N: Thanks for reading(: This may be the last chapter of this story, as it is not very successful. I'm not usually one to give up but I have four I'm currently writing right now and two pending requests for stories...so yeah it's a lot of work. Anyways, drop me a review and please if you enjoy this story make it known, if enough of you want me to continue I will try my best to crank out more chapters. I am not sure if my summary gave this away but, this is and assassination story/ murder mystery so if your interested in reading more yet another reason to tell me(:-E_


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